


A Scorpion In Molt

by lapsed-bookworm (queerlybeloved777)



Series: Arrows & Stingers [1]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aromantic Walter O'Brien, Bottom Walter O'Brien, Caregiver/little, Casual Sex, Daddy Dom/Little Boy, Dd/lb, Dry Orgasm, E-mail, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning After, Nipple Play, No Romance, Past Relationship(s), Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Subdrop, Top Tim Armstrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerlybeloved777/pseuds/lapsed-bookworm
Summary: aro!Walter doesn’t mind one-night stands for sexual release, and he takes home a stranger from a bar named Tim, who mercifully isn’t intimidated by casual sex or casual scenes. That Monday the new Homeland agent assigned to work with Scorpion - Tim Armstrong - is none other than Friday’s hook-up.





	1. DDlb

**Author's Note:**

> Non-canonical aromantic allosexual Walter, who has sexual relationships with men, though I haven’t written him solely interested in men. Tim’s sexuality has also been left a bit ambiguous. No plans on Walter / Paige or Tim / Paige in this.

“Okay, you’re a bit more prepared than I was expecting.”

Walter paused in arranging the box of condoms, tube of lubricating jelly, and box of latex gloves on the nightstand to glance towards the bathroom door. The man - Tom? no, Tim - flipped the light off and stepped into the bedroom, stepping out of his shoes. Walter’s hands rested on his hips, uncertain that the decision to remove his boxers while waiting was the route he should’ve taken, “Too fast for your liking?”

“I was hoping to at least be in the room when you took your clothes off”, there was a flicker of a smile, but Walter felt like the speed of the long-sleeved shirt being unbuttoned was a hair too slow, “If you’re having second thoughts --”

Tim shrugged the thin denim shirt off, letting it hit the floor, and shook his head. Walter didn’t know what to do with his hands as he watched muscles flex against the soft cotton t-shirt along the sleeve hems. He hadn’t noticed the white and navy blue stripes in the lighting of the bar, or how much muscle Tim had. A part of his brain was horribly aware of his own layer of - How did Sly phrase it? - cushioning that looked unremarkable in comparison. Tim sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs and resting his hands on his thighs. Walter took a step or two forward and drug his eyes up from the sculpted jeans to Tim’s slightly amused face, “Is something funny?”

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched, and Walter followed his gaze down to his own starting erection. Well, all things considered, it was inevitable, really. They weren’t exactly in his bedroom for idle chitchat. He stepped directly in front of Tim and knelt down between the other man’s legs, gently sliding his hands up Tim’s calves.

“You said you wanted a casual hook-up, but”, Tim glanced towards the lube, “did you have anything in mind?”

“Of course, but it depends on what you want to do”, Walter’s fingers traced the seams along Tim’s outer thighs and came to a rest on belt loops under the t-shirt while Tim shifted his hands to the bed. He had rather hoped they’d gotten the brunt of tonight’s negotiating out of the way at the bar, but he couldn’t say he was surprised with a new partner. Walter’s hands paused on the warm rippling of abdominal muscles at Tim’s question, “You’re not used to foreplay, are you?”

“I got accustomed to returning to a few men”, Walter bit back the observation that at least one of those men would’ve already been done in the time since Tim left the bathroom. Direct comparisons of sexual partners was something he had never felt comfortable with (this wasn’t supposed to be a competition), and as much as he lacked social awareness, he wasn’t a complete idiot to provide that kind of information unsolicited. Tim lowered his head and voice slightly, “Did you really go through all this for a quick blowjob?”

Walter barely shook his head and lowered his hands to Tim’s lap, letting his fingers trace small circles along his inner thighs in invitation - more of a request - rather than steering the direction of tonight’s activities, “What kind of foreplay do you like?”

Tim’s hands were in his hair and cradling the back of his head, guiding him up, and Walter closed his eyes right before impact. Tim had been calm since they’d gone back to Walter’s apartment, but Walter could feel the ghost of a smile at how hungrily Tim kissed him. It didn’t particularly make sense that eminent sexual gratification could be so satisfying by itself, but there was something about knowing how to push another man’s buttons that made the awkward small talk at a bar beforehand worthwhile. It certainly made the itch creeping beneath his skin from waiting and letting sexual tension build up easier to manage. He followed the ascent of Tim’s lips, crawling onto the other man’s lap while his hands strayed back up the t-shirt. The rippling of muscles against his skin barely registered while Walter sought his prize - soft nipples that hardened under his circling touch. Tim’s lips vibrated from a muffled moan as he leaned back onto the bed with Walter.

His thoughts were still butting in, but he didn’t want to stop and address them. It didn’t matter what percentage of men found the neck to be an erogenous zone, or if Tim might be one of the few who found stimulating the underarms erotic. Walter slid his knees to either side of Tim’s waist and made sure to press his erection into the slight bulge in Tim’s jeans, rocking his hips. When in doubt, the most common denominator is often the best first choice. Tim’s lips had worked down to Walter’s jaw - he squeezed Tim’s nipples and tugged slightly, hoping for a mutual reward - and then Walter’s neck. Percentages turned into obscenities. Walter’s fingers paused and his hands found broad shoulders as Tim started to nibble, and a barely audible whimper was pressed into Tim’s neck. Walter’s hands slid back down Tim’s chest and he paused grinding as he fumbled with the button and zipper to reveal a tenting layer of boxer briefs.

“You never did say what you wanted me to do”, Tim’s voice was low and slightly breathy. Walter couldn’t blame him. A part of him was aware and aghast at his inability to string coherent words together. He couldn’t remember which hormone he could blame this on, but he knew the throbbing point of connection between their groins was at least partially responsible. He just had to marshall enough thought processes together to get them to their respective releases. Just a little concentration - what did he want Tim to do?

“Fuck me Daddy”, Walter’s voice was more of a moan than a whisper. Fuck, he was with Tony - no Tim - not Adam. Both men froze, and Walter cleared his throat quickly, “I didn’t mean - one of the other men - habit, uh, accident --”

Tim slowly sat up, and Walter slid off his lap towards the inside of the bed, feeling a numb sort of panic that he had irreparably fucked this up, “Do you wanna call me Daddy?”

“I don’t know”, Walter’s hands clenched into the bedspread as he watched Tim pull his t-shirt off and let it fall to the bed. Well, the mere fact that Tim was not gathering his clothes and storming out was a good sign, for now. It felt like Walter’s synapses had been doused with cold water, and he was no longer struggling to think through the foggy hormonal reactions, even if he did still want to reach out and touch the revealed skin. He hadn’t picked this man up from an explicitly kink friendly venue, so he wasn’t sure how far he could get with stretching the truth, “I’m not entirely sure where that came from.”

Tim stood and slid his jeans down onto the floor before yanking his socks off, “Can’t say I’ve had that accidentally happen before, but it wasn’t the worst thing someone’s said during sex”, his boxers slid to the floor as well, and Walter’s heart skipped a beat in a rather annoying and distracting way, although he wasn’t sure if it was from the mouthwatering sight of Tim’s freed erection or the implication that Tim wasn’t a stranger to being called Daddy, “I guess if you want to call me that again, it’s alright for a night.”

Something in his quad spasmed as he tried to keep his hips perfectly still because it would be frustrating to ruin tonight’s planned activities by chasing Tim off with an in-depth discussion along this route, and Walter glanced at the nightstand in an attempt to distract his thoughts away from what else he could get Tim’s permission (orders, a bold inner voice corrected) to do, “I wasn’t sure I’d get this far - I still need stretched.”

“Lay down”, Walter stretched onto his stomach, balling Tim’s shirt between his hands and inhaling his scent. It helped to keep his thoughts on what he could smell rather than narrowing in on the soft rustling noises of movement behind him because tensing up made for uncomfortable penetration. A spicy cologne that was a bit stronger but not unpleasant due to sweating from the bar (Was that cinnamon and something?). It actually seemed to be paired with the barely detectable scent of what might have been a vanilla. Probably a body wash from a certain collection. Anything else was too faint for the human nose. The soft tear of a condom wrapper and Tim’s quiet comment broke through his thoughts, “No need to get all flat and cold.”

“Cold?”, Walter glanced over his shoulder to watch the condom roll down Tim’s shaft. Not exactly small, but not exactly large either, and it was definitely not an appropriate time for sharing how often men overestimated the length of their own penises when many were in the average of 4 - 6 inches territory. His stomach felt uncomfortably jittery, even if it was from positive anticipation, and his thoughts were starting to shuffle off to dusty corners in lieu of letting biology take over.

“Distant”, Tim slid a glove onto his dominant hand and picked up the lube with the other. Walter laid his cheek on the shirt as the mattress dipped and Tim spread Walter’s legs slightly. Tim’s ungloved hand spread his cheeks, and the thick, cooler than skin lubricant glided around his entrance, circling twice before Tim’s first finger slid inside. Walter sighed as Tim’s finger circled its way to the second knuckle and his ungloved hand cupped a cheek. His voice had gone a bit thick and mumbly, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he was breathing through Tim’s shirt or not, “Sorry. Not used to small talk.”

Tim withdrew to lube his middle finger and slid both fingers inside to continue circling and inching the entirety of his fingers within. It was slow and rhythmic, and the frantic background noise that was always playing in Walter’s mind gradually fell away. He didn’t need to think about the case from earlier in the week, didn’t need to be scanning the room for the social cues he struggled to naturally pick up on, didn’t need to hold himself back in case he gave off the wrong cue. The numbers and calculations faded away because he didn’t need to know Tim’s fingerfucking speed or estimate his circumfrence to enjoy this. Walter’s hips jerked forward as a third finger was introduced, and this was why he couldn’t try to prepare himself before picking someone up. He felt a bit lightheaded and like he was about to float out of his body, even though he could feel the shallow thrusting of his hips, the cotton blanket, his shaft caught between his abdomen and the soft blanket.

Walter opened his eyes as the friction withdrew, a little unsure of when exactly he had closed them. The snap of latex came from behind and slightly above him. Two warm ungloved hands rubbed circles into his lower back, and he forced himself to hold still, to unbury his face from Tim’s shirt, to glance back over his shoulder. Tim looked a little dazed as he watched his own hands trail down Walter’s spine and over the curve of his ass, and Walter shivered. He’d been careful about waiting long enough at the bar for the relatively small amount of alcohol to be metabolized in Tim’s system, and the knowledge that it was him - his body - that was eliciting a slightly awe filled smile and not a mind altering substance was doing something not unpleasant to him. Tim’s hands were spreading him again, and the condom was glistening with more lubricant, and Walter’s eyes had automatically fallen shut as he felt hot warmth breach him. Tim’s thighs were brushing against his own, chest pressing into his back, arms bracketing his own, warm puffs of breath against his neck. Walter was biting the t-shirt, inhaling the cinnamon and vanilla and whatever else was _Tim_ , and he couldn’t bring himself to care that he was salivating into a stranger’s clothes because this was currently the number one gag he had ever experienced. Tim rolled his hips and pressed a reassuring kiss into Walter’s neck, “You alright?”

Was he alright? His erection had wilted in the face of penetration, but that was to be expected, and there was no uncomfortable burning. He actually didn’t feel like he needed much time to acclimate, in part because progress was slow. Damn, Tim had been thorough in stretching him. It was a hair surreal to feel so surrounded by the other man - his body draped over him like a blanket, his delicious scent blocking out everything else, his head just starting the process of filling him. Walter took a deep breath and nodded. Tim rolled his hips again and slid further, “You sure? I’m not a mindreader, you know.”

“Daddy, _please_ ”, Walter was proud of himself for whispering instead of whining, and his self-judgemental voice had thankfully been taken offline with the rest of his continuous calculating thoughts, so he could wait and admonish himself later for calling this stranger Daddy. They hadn’t talked about this beforehand, negotiated their limits, set up a proper safeword. He hadn’t met up with Adam so frequently this was an actual habit, had he? Tim lowered his voice as well, a little deeper and more proprietary than before, “Daddy just wants to take care of his little boy. Properly, understand?”

“Yes, Daddy”, Walter’s hips jerked at the jolt of pleasure skipping between his chest and spine (it felt like a long time since his last scene with Adam), and Tim began to thrust shallowly. He was slow, dragging his head along the bottom and front walls of Walter’s colon at a frustrating pace, and Walter whimpered at the glacier progress. Sexual gratification was an area where he struggled with patience and temporary delays, and Tim had another thing coming if he tried to go down the route of orgasm denial. Walter lifted his hips into the next downward thrust, and Tim swore as his stuttered out of rhythm, sliding deeper in one erratic thrust. They stilled while waiting for Walter’s sphincter muscles to quit spasming and relax enough to unclench, and he forced himself to keep his eyes open, focusing on the minute factory weave of the blue and white stripes of the t-shirt. Tim sat up and tugged on his hips, maneuvering him onto his knees with one arm across his chest for stabilization. Walter went willingly, a little dazed at how gentle his sex partner was being in the face of being thrown off his pace. He glanced in the direction of the nightstand, certain that his plan would work but unsure if he wanted to bring it up, “Can - Can Daddy reach the top drawer?”

“I think so”, Tim carefully leaned forward and slightly to the side then waited, staring into a hodgepodge of miscellaneous items. A box of sterilizing wipes, a variety of flavored condoms (leftovers from Joe), a lighter, half burned taper candles in a rainbow of colors (he hadn’t been able to find anyone interested in candle play after short Will’s summer gig in LA ended), clothespins, a set of handcuffs without a key (tall Will had to pick the lock to get him out when they realized their key was to a different set of cuffs), various small travel sized tubes of lubricant from an experimental gift box (some were a bit odd and were heated, cooling, or flavored with a range of accompanying tingling sensations), a pouch with varying lengths of rope (Adam insisted he had more than enough to spare leaving some), and the opaque plastic box Walter kept his insertable toys in. He had the distinct impression that Tim recognized the potential toys in front of him, but he couldn’t get distracted right now, “The clothespins will help me relax.”

“Shame Daddy didn’t know about your toys”, Tim whispered as he skimmed his fingernails over Walter’s nipples in a noticeable but not unpleasant light scratch. Walter’s brain couldn’t handle the sensory input of so much skin contact, a throbbing not exactly small heat inside his ass, so many clenched and tense muscles everywhere in his body, warm fingers tugging on his erect nipples, and translating sounds to thoughts. He whined and let his back muscles relax, leaning back into Tim’s chest just enough to be comfortable. The familiar stabbing burn of one clothespin then the other closing snug around his skin. The gentle pressure of Tim’s arm resuming position across his chest. The pulling sensation on his nipples that kept his attention firmly focused on his front and allowed him to incrementally relax. Walter felt pleasantly malleable as Tim pulled him closer and slowly shifted his hips to continue thrusting.

There was no way he had the patience to fuck himself like this, not even with a smaller toy like a plug or prostate massager, and it was rather nice to change things up from his typically faster, rougher forays. And speak of the devil, Walter’s body convulsed as Tim finally thrust deep enough for the head of his penis to brush against Walter’s prostate. A jerk of the hips, a sharp inhale, warm pre-cum slid down his shaft. A hard to describe staticy feeling raced up his spine, and Walter’s thoughts started to stutter with static filled silence as Tim kept his thrusting shallow, just dragging across this small patch of skin. A slow, steady rhythm that was whiting out his thoughts, even from obscenities and especially from self-judgement for possibly cumming untouched. Oh fuck, his thighs were twitching already, and Walter was dimly aware that the hand not splayed across his collarbone had only just made its way down to his ballsack. His own hand found the base of his erection and squoze in an attempt to keep the pulsing from escalating too quickly, but Tim tsked in his ear, “Daddy wants his little boy to cum tonight”, Walter barely managed to muffle a moan with his free hand, “Daddy’s gonna milk every last drop --”

Really, Walter knew better, and in hindsight, he maybe should have warned Tim that he couldn’t last with such direct prostate massage. But that regret set in after his brain short-circuited from the bolt of electricity radiating from the base of his spine to the tips of his fingers digging into Tim’s thighs. He could feel the throbbing heat of his penis against his abdomen, the warm spurts of cum hitting his chest, the gentle pressure of Tim rolling his balls in his hand. It took a few seconds for him to realize the high-pitched keening noise was coming from him, but he couldn’t do more than pant and gasp for air and hope he hadn’t deafened the other man. He might’ve grown a little too accustomed to a ball gag and not being able to speak, but Tim didn’t seem bothered. He drug his hand up Walter’s slick shaft and wiped the last dribbling cum out of his slit with his thumb, and Walter couldn’t help but moan at the proprietary feeling. He could feel a smile and soft kisses being pressed into his neck, and it was doing something strange but warm and pleasant to his insides. Granted, that also had to do with the praise being breathed into his skin, “Such a good boy, cumming for Daddy.”

Walter basked in the mental silence, and he was quite sure he probably looked a bit sappy, smiling and half-lidded, content. He didn’t even mind that Tim was continuing to thrust because he wasn’t all that surprised if a little more time and stimulation were necessary for him to cum. His sphincter muscles had relaxed again, and the other man had erred on the side of using more lubricant than was strictly necessary, so Walter couldn’t really think of why he should ruin this floating sensation long enough to get his brain to mouth connection back online. But his peaceful post-orgasm afterglow was interrupted by a weak, pulsing aftershock that coated Tim’s palm in a fresh but smaller coating of cum. He could have an orgasm ruined as a way to delay ejaculation, but he wasn’t one of those men who could recover satisfactorily within the same night. That was all Tim was going to get unless -- Walter shivered and felt something shift a little in his mind.

The thrusting of Tim’s hips and their rocking back and forth had quickened, but he was carefully keeping pressure on Walter’s prostate. While it was most likely because he needed to finish chasing his own sexual release, Walter’s brain was saturated in too many endorphins and hormones he couldn’t remember just now to think of anything other than Tim fucking a dry orgasm out of him. He typically didn’t have the endurance or patience to last long enough, but this night was gearing up to be one of the occasional reminders that patience was a fucking virtue. It was like a infrasound wave radiating across his skin to feel gooseflesh break out, twitching muscles reinvigorated by a boost of adrenaline, and the pulsing, building crest of electric pleasure with a soft penis. Sharp pain broke through the haze as Tim bit his neck, not hard enough to draw blood but he desperately hoped it would bruise, and Walter was dimly aware that he was panting an almost inaudible litany, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

He had no fucking clue which hormone or neurochemical to thank, but he was skittering along a rather tenuous tether between a sated body and a disembodied consciousness formerly called a brain that was now floating with every inhale and exhale. Brilliant, life altering, amazing, mind blowing, he would gladly wax poetic about Daddy’s cock on bended knee to feel this again. Tim was panting into his shoulder and his hips were snapping a more familiar rhythm, slipping farther above and below his prostate in reprieve. They weren’t fluid bonded, though, so Walter felt the shuddering of muscles behind him and a somewhat muffled throbbing more so than the vaguely remembered pulsing heat. He really never should’ve experimented with barebacking because a horribly bratty inner voice always sought an inadequate comparison. In the face of irrefutable data around decreasing the spread of sexually transmitted diseases and infections, it was hard to explain why a part of him missed it. The answer was dredged up with painful clarity as Tim withdrew and he found himself curling into the fetal position, grateful that he no longer had clothespins but a little unsure of when they were taken off. Logically, Walter knew his casual sex partner was simply disposing of the used condom and tidying up, but he was barreling down the dark side of chasing after endorphins and all of those feel good chemicals from sex with only illogical emotions to steer the descent.

Daddy left, and it felt heart shatteringly empty to no longer be filled. He had thought he’d done a good job taking Daddy’s cock, but the intimately warm connection was gone and he just ached. His muscles weren’t quite used to such strenuous physical activity, and it would take a few hours for his sphincter muscles to return to normal, and his heart was twisting uncomfortably. A godawful amount of lube coating the inside of his rectum and a used condom in the wastebasket in the bathroom - not even a bruise, a cut, a proper love bite to let heal - were what remained. It wasn’t about the pain per se, but he wanted a mark or physical proof that Daddy had been there (wasn’t gone just yet). It was an ugly, selfish urge that rose up from the secret corners of his mind when he had thought it was safely hidden away, but he wanted claimed (needed to feel Daddy’s cum inside him, feel it leak out like he was a well used fucktoy afterwards). Warmth prickled at his eyes, and simply, he wanted Daddy to stay.

Something soft and damp drug across Walter’s skin followed by dry warmth. He didn’t really remember closing his eyes, but when he opened them and blinked away embarrassing hot tears, Tim was methodically wiping away cum before it cooled and would require a shower to remove. At the moment, the following soft touch to make sure there was no sticky residue was more appreciated. He was frowning slightly, but he was also being very careful in how he touched Walter and spoke quietly, clearly more puzzled then upset, “Is something wrong? Are you hurt?”

Walter rubbed furiously at his eyes, shame bubbling up in his chest with an acrid bile aftertaste in the back of his throat. Damn, he was fucking up perfectly enjoyable sex with annoying emotions that he couldn’t control or keep from leaking out of his eyes as tears. He shook his head and winced at how hoarse his voice sounded (how pathetic, really), “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Walter?”, Tim rubbed his arm reassuringly, and Walter didn’t particularly like that he was suddenly aware of his body shivering. It wasn’t cold in a manner of speaking, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his overstimulated brain manufactured the sensation in order to propel him into seeking warmth to counteract the shock soon. He cleared his throat and tried to sound less like a crying child, “I’m not used to being m-milked. It was more intense than I remember.”

“Shit”, Tim swore under his breath, and Walter’s lungs did something psychosomatic, he was sure of it. There was no real danger that would merit this feeling of panic, but he wasn’t able to rationalize emotional reactions to his own brain very well. It would help if his tear ducts would take a five minute break, for starters, because it was hard to calm down when his body was struggling with a signal of stress or some sort of injury. Tim had leaned down to press a shush into his hair that was more comforting than it had any right to be, and his voice had gone soft, “I’m sorry. We didn’t talk about it beforehand, and I didn’t realize it might set off subdrop this quickly. Daddy’s sorry.”

Oh, right, subdrop. He’d gotten used to casual scenes with repetitive partners, which carried less of a risk of this happening, and Walter’s brain struggled to remember how to mitigate the side effects. He was used to his aftercare consisting of addressing physical wounds, cleaning up, some sort of snack and Gatorade (water would do in a pinch), and maybe cuddling if things got to that point. A very simple checklist and not very taxing on his partner, requiring no more than an hour of post-coital interaction tops. Also, rather useless and unhelpful for subdrop, at least in his experience. Everything just felt more, too much more. Thankfully, more of Tim’s circuits were firing, and he was maneuvering them both under the blanket with gentle but insistent movements, “I know this isn’t quite what you meant when you said I was free to stay the night, but it’ll help.”

Walter shivered and burrowed into his bed mate’s warmth. A part of his brain was aware that he was seeking out something more than mere physical need, but a larger part of him was too wrung out to question or scold himself. His emotions and his thoughts would be useless until he had gotten some sleep and reset, and he was hoping that he would be able to apologize in the morning. This was far more than he had really been expecting of tonight’s hook-up, and it was a relief that Tim had some experience in this area because Walter wasn’t in an adequately communicative state to handle a teaching moment. Tim settled onto his back and wrapped his arms around Walter in a comforting embrace, and that pesky bratty inner voice was not satisfied with pressing close to his side in restraint and relative distance. He readjusted into a partial human blanket with his head on Tim’s chest, arms wrapped around him as well, and a leg draped over him. Something in his chest loosened at the intimacy of skin contact, of his naked but soft penis nestled into Tim’s thigh, and part of his leg covering Tim protectively. Tim’s hands moved in soothing circles along his back and side, and Walter believed him when he said, “It’s okay. Daddy’s here.”


	2. Defining Casual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added to Tags: Morning After, Kink Negotiation, Past Relationship(s), No Romance

The following morning dawned bright and hotter than Walter was accustomed to. He felt like he had to peel the flesh of his arms and legs away from Tim’s skin before he could disengage from the blanket enough to make his way to the bathroom, and he made a mental note to preemptively adjust the thermostat before the extra body heat in his bed made it stifling next time. He was shuffling a hair slower than normal even for just waking up, and Walter grimaced as something in his thigh contracted painfully on the walk to the kitchen. Electrolytes, hydration, possibly some potassium for his muscles. He was quite sure even his brain yawned at the prospect of staring into the fridge and figuring out what he could make for breakfast with the least amount of effort as possible. He wasn’t sure his legs could make it through standing over a stove, and he was just tired enough to not want a heavy meal. A banana would be a good, simple start. And perhaps one of the oddly flavored supplemental shakes? They were a bit too similar to his childhood school’s chocolate milk to be truly enjoyable, but they were the best alternative to acquiring nutrients without directly eating at the moment.

“Mornin’.”

Walter was halfway through his banana and debating the pros and cons of crawling back into bed, even if Tim was still there, when he froze at the soft spoken greeting. He was proud of himself for not jumping or inhaling his breakfast to visibly give away his startle, but he doubted the man leaning against his kitchen doorway would be impressed with such a simple achievement. Walter forced himself to swallow slowly (because choking was not the last impression he wanted Tim to have of him) and cleared his throat, “Good morning.”

“Are you feeling better?”, Tim had either gotten dressed with a particular skill for being silent in a stranger’s apartment, or Walter had zoned out and lost track of time while mulling over what to eat and not pushing his muscles to move faster than they wanted to while eating. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Tim’s readiness this early in the morning, but he nodded and set the chocolate shake down on the counter in order to cross his arms over his chest. Well, part of his discomfort could very well be that he’d wandered out to his kitchen without putting even last night’s boxers back on, and there was a certain vulnerability to still being nude right now. He gestured to the bedroom, “I’d forgotten how intense everything gets after a prostate orgasm. I should’ve given you some warning last night.”

Tim shrugged, “I should’ve remembered to ask. I guess I got a little too accustomed to returning to play partners myself.”

Walter nodded. He’d opened the can the worms by slipping into his routine with Adam, so he couldn’t really judge Tim. He glanced to his banana peel on the counter. It was 50/50 on how well he handled the morning after, especially with a new partner, and he’d gotten out of the habit of this particular social dance. Should he offer something to eat or drink? Would that negate their premise of a casual hook-up? Tim was undoubtedly more familiar with physical exercise, but his body would still need to rehydrate and replenish nutrients. Did he simply want to leave as quickly as possible? Was Walter trying to stall because of some bothersome emotional residue? No, he had always been adequately reset by a good night’s sleep with any prior run ins with subdrop, so that couldn’t be it. Tim cleared his throat and looked to be addressing a point slightly to the left of Walter’s ear, “I’m sorry for the subpar scene last night. We didn’t negotiate prostate milking or bruises, and I should’ve --”

“Is that what you call subpar?”, Tim blinked and frowned at Walter’s scoffing, but he waved off any forthcoming opposition, “We may need to work on our respective communication, but the scene itself was _not_ subpar”, he could feel his cheeks warming and took a quick drink of the shake to excuse trailing off. Walter was still a little too close to the events to objectively evaluate last night, but he didn’t want to let slip any of that sappy poetic waxing. It might reassure Tim that he wasn’t horrible at meeting his partner’s sexual needs, but it could also get embarrassing to admit that Walter was thrilled at the implication of a love bite and grateful that Tim hadn’t insisted on leaving him (alone) after they were done. With proper negotiation and the appropriate aftercare planned out, a part of him was also hopeful that they could revisit those activities, but he was assuming Tim was interested in a repeat performance. Tim had relaxed and looked awfully smug about something, and Walter followed the flicker of his eyes down to - Oh. He beat the embarrassment that he was half hard at the memory of last night into a far back corner of his mind and resolutely met Tim’s satisfied gaze, hoping that he had succeeded at the desired air of nonchalance. He was not going to be ashamed of a normal biological response.

“I know this may come as a bit of a shock”, Tim’s face had fallen into a somewhat more serious countenance, and his tone had lost the prior moment’s amusement, “But I’m not used to my sex partners crying afterwards. I know you stressed that we were just doing a casual hook-up, more than once at the bar in fact, but I’d feel better about leaving if I knew you were definitely okay.”

“That’s very considerate of you”, Walter smiled in what he hoped was an adequately reassuring manner, “I was able to sleep my subdrop off, though, so I don’t any further aftercare.”

“I know it’s none of my business”, Tim crossed his arms over his chest, although he still managed to look very relaxed and nonchalant despite the defensive cue, “You said you were used to returning to a play partner, and you seemed to fall back on DDlb reflexively. Would I have actually been able to avoid triggering your subdrop, or was it because I was, well, a rebound?”

A very large part of Walter wanted to jump in with explanations of aromanticism, hook-up culture in the local queer community, the overlap in polyamory and sexual non-monogamy, the relatively common rate of Caregiver/little dynamics in the local kink scene, and a bullet point list of all the neurochemicals that were flooding his brain and making his emotions haywire after multiple orgasms last night. He could very well deflect in several mini lectures on why his subdrop wasn’t an indicator of rebound sex, but a small part of him that he might have recognized from Paige’s efforts to increase his social awareness and emotional empathy paused to consider the possibility. He wasn’t a stranger to a dissolving of his play partnerships, whether it was through a mutual decision, a limited time frame, shifting kink preferences, or irreconcilable differences.

Walter had been playing with Adam for several months when he sprung the L-word and wanted less of a casual dynamic and more of a relationship. He was almost painfully upfront about how he simply wanted casual sex with Tim because he didn’t particularly want to go through a repeat of uncomfortably telling Adam he didn’t love him, would probably never do so, and had no desire for a proper relationship. Walter didn’t feel guilty about how things ended per se, but he was wary of trying to teach someone about aromanticism and it failing again. He may not have loved Adam, but he was quite fond of him, had grown comfortable with their scene work, and cared about him enough to feel the unpleasant emotional side effects of a breakup (a truly awful experience he didn’t wish on his worst ex-friends). He didn’t want to pour his heart out to a stranger, but Walter knew he should provide some degree of truth, “Things didn’t exactly end well with my last Daddy Dom, but I’m not sure it’s a rebound with how much time has elapsed.”

“So ‘casual’ isn’t your keyword for fucking away the emotional pain of a breakup?”, Tim was sincere enough that Walter suspected he had his own unfortunate run ins with being a rebound informing his approach to this conversation. Walter didn’t want to admit to that dubious honor belonging to someone he let fuck him after a few too many margaritas almost three months ago now (he probably couldn’t pick the man out of a line up if his life depended on it, which he wasn’t proud of with a photographic memory and a preference for sober sex). He shook his head, “I can assure you that there would’ve been an unfortunate amount of tequila if this had been rebound sex.”

“Ah”, Tim fiddled with the bottom button on his denim shirt and seemed to be looking roughly in the vicinity of Walter’s knees, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’d just rather know now before I have to deal with a jealous ex or anything like that.”

“He moved to Florida”, Walter didn’t know how to explain to Tim that Adam had been one of those polyamorous folks, and he was probably not going to go after any of Walter’s partners because he was taking a break from polyamory to work on his pre-existing marriage to whatsherface - Bethany? - who wanted to be his only little after he expressed recurring interest in adding men to their arrangement. It had been horribly confusing to keep track of Adam’s polycule because it was deeply intertwined in his schedule of availability, but his own relationship troubles elsewhere had been a bit of a relief for Walter as their dynamic would’ve ended one way or another. But saying all of that would sound callous, even if it was the reason why Adam had moved to Florida. Tim nodded, and Walter had the absurd wish that he kept an apron in the kitchen because it was a little like having an out of body experience to irrefutably know someone else was aware of - could see - his penis softening with the distraction from remembering last night. He made a mental note (underlined more than once) to not parade around his apartment without clothes on when someone had stayed the night.

“I can understand if you were planning on this being a one-time thing”, Tim made a nervous looking gesture between the two of them, and Walter’s lungs froze in place for a millisecond. Oh, he really hoped this wasn’t a hallucination because the universe could not be that cruel. He nodded in acknowledgement, and Tim continued with an anxious mess of a rambling question and backpedaling, “I may not have been all that great when stumbling into a casual scene, but I’m actually much better at communicating and planning a real - well, a more intentional - scene -- If you’re okay with hooking up again, that is. You really stressed casual, and I can understand if you’re not looking for a relationship right now, but we both seemed to enjoy last night, so I was wondering if you’d at least accept my number - just in case --”

Walter cleared his throat and pushed away the secondhand embarrassment he was unfortunately very familiar with picking up on. Tim was staring down at the white tile in front of him on the floor, and Walter didn’t have the nerves to let him stew in his anxiousness. He might have gone a little overboard with the no-strings warnings if a particularly good lay, someone already knowledgeable of at least some kink, someone who was considerate and already made a caring Daddy Dom was afraid of leaving his number. They hadn’t even checked to see how kink compatible they were yet, so really, what did he have to lose? Walter took a sip of the chocolate shake to keep himself from sounding too excited, “We’ve already established that I’m not unfamiliar with, or opposed to, recurring casual sex or play partners, Tim.”

Tim smiled in relief, and a tension seemed to have been lifted from him as he uncrossed his arms and stood a little straighter in the doorway. The pleasant anticipation was ruined when he opened his mouth, “Are you opposed to talking limits over dinner?”

“Yes”, Walter didn’t try to sugarcoat his delivery, and a small part of him tensed at how the light-hearted (dare he think flirtatious) atmosphere had fled the room. Tim still stood in the doorway with a hip and shoulder against the frame, arms crossed, and looking remarkably calm and carefree, but his face had settled into a neutral mask with a hint of retreating chill. He didn’t like ruining Tim’s script, but he was going to nip the false ideas of romance in the bud before they actually got involved and risked emotional fallout, “I am not looking for someone to date, and I have no interest in being your boyfriend. If we already knew each other, I might make a comparison to fuckbuddies, for lack of a better analogous term, and if that’s a dealbreaker, we should get this over with now.”

Tim didn’t say anything, and Walter’s brain latched onto counting the seconds of silence as a distraction from thinking of how he had just fucked up a chance with a potential play partner. The distance between them wasn’t pleasant to feel, although his perception of a chill in the air may have been unduly influenced by his nudity, and he would have to reconsider pushing at a socially aware and functionally empathetic person because Tim had shut down beyond Walter’s cue reading level. It wasn’t angry or confused, but there was something more than a business like feel. It actually reminded Walter of how some of the military personnel Scorpion interacted with would act, and a curious inner voice wondered if Tim was former military. That’s the kind of deduction that was more in Toby’s wheelhouse, though, so he couldn’t really follow the inquiry. Finally, after 63 seconds, Tim nodded, “We can keep this as casual as you like, but I can’t comment on dealbreakers until we’ve discussed limits.”

“I prefer a two part discussion, of sorts”, Walter reflexively reached down for his pocket and personal cell phone, but he sighed when his hand met the bare flesh of his thigh. Right, no clothes. He motioned to the bedroom, “I can either email or send my list as an attachment on a text, but I like to get first reactions and any necessary research out of the way before sitting down in person. It helps to mitigate some of the awkwardness of having to hash details out or teach face-to-face.”

“How efficient”, Tim muttered while scribbling his information on the back of the receipt from last night’s bar. Walter did think it was a far more efficient approach than having to verbally list out his interests, soft limits and what situations could be acceptable or not, and hard limits for a potential play partner to try to remember or scramble to write down in person, but he had the distinct feeling that Tim might be aiming for sarcasm in this instance instead of commenting on actual efficiency, “These are my personal email and cell phone number, so please don’t panic if I don’t respond during business hours Monday through Friday. I’m free next weekend for your face-to-face discussion, but I guess we’ll see if it’s worth scheduling anything after you email.”

Walter nodded, but he wasn’t quite sure why he felt like something had gone unsaid as Tim placed the receipt on the nearest counter and left. Was it some sort of hospitality thing his mother had attempted to teach him when he was younger? Was it an errant emotional response from so noticeably shutting down last night’s Daddy? He suspected it was some sort of guilt, but he couldn’t figure out what the root cause was. He’d never really thanked Tim for the enjoyable sex or communicated the appreciation for not ignoring his subsequent subdrop. He never did go through the motions of offering him anything to eat or drink despite eating his own breakfast in front of him. He might have regretted the reflexively cold response to a romantically coded gesture and the distance that sprang up between them, which clearly ruined their chances to do anything approaching a cordial farewell. Walter sighed and walked back to his bedroom intent on a nap for a soft reset. Emotions were complicated, and he did not recommend them.


	3. Special Agent Timothy Armstrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added to Tags: E-mail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-canonical emails created with just enough character references for them to make sense (crimson ties to Harvard for Toby, btw).

Email sent at 7:55 am:

To: Team Scorpion [w.obrien@gmail.com, sly_warlock@aol.com, crimson05curtis@yahoo.com, geargrl1988@gmail.com]  
Cc: cabe.gallo@dhs.gov, rdineen@caltech.edu  
From: p_dineen@gmail.com  
Subject: New Team Member

This is unlikely to be a surprise for Cabe, but the DHS has recently approved a second agent for Team Scorpion, Special Agent Armstrong. Officially, he will “provide security to any persons at Scorpion headquarters, particularly when the team members are split between field operations and/or computer support must remain at the headquarters during an assignment”. Unofficially, he will provide tactical backup to Cabe, so for the sake of the safety of the entire team, please listen to him while we are on assignments.

SA Armstrong will start today. That means he will be at the warehouse when you guys arrive looking at files and trying to figure out who everyone is (no costumes or fake names). That means we have a new desk, and I’ve warned him that Sly will want input on the new layout for optimal pattern and workflow efficiency. He is aware that Ralph will be stopping by after school, and I want you to be polite because first impressions can’t be undone. It should come as no surprise that SA Armstrong is former military, so please go easy on psychoanalyzing or teasing about the formality, Toby. I suspect he hasn’t been out long and/or isn’t used to civilian consultants.

Today is the install for the ground penetrating radar to monitor the state of the city’s underground pipework and sewer system. The updated blueprints with our recommended installation points have to be double checked against the actual pipe system, which will be covered by Sly, but the majority of the equipment can be handled by those who are not Happy, who will be handling the most sensitive equipment. Additional expertise from the city’s sewer workers and volcanologists with their equipment for monitoring earthquakes will be provided by the contractors. In field: Walt, Happy, Toby, Cabe, and myself. Warehouse: Sly, SA Armstrong.

tl;dr We have a new team member, so be nice. Everyone but Sly will be working in the field today, so that means be nice over coms, too.

Sincerely,  
Paige Dineen  
EQ Manager, People Translator, and Resident Cat-Herder for Team Scorpion


	4. Emotional Simplicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Walter's handwriting is inserted as an image of sections written out and cropped from Google Docs using a Google Doc font extension add-on called Extensis Fonts. This specific font is "Shadows Into Light Two" with a 24 font size in the first image and a 20 font size in the other two.

The whiteboard in Walter’s apartment was taunting him, he was sure of it. He had finished out the end of their shift, come home, and changed into comfortable clothes. Shame, they couldn’t have a wear your pajamas to work day, but apparently, the contractors expected business casual unless specific clothing was necessary for an assignment. Dinner - leftover lasagna from the weekend - was in the microwave, and he was trying to figure out what to do about the play partner situation he was in.

Walter’s thoughts felt like they were scattered, unhelpfully, across everything that had happened today. The install for the ground penetrating radar had gone off without any surprise earthquakes, explosions, equipment failure, ill-timed sinkholes opening up, or any of the other possibilities Sly had been prepared for. A barely perceptible tremor undid some of the more finer tuned placement, but it merely took Happy and Sly double checking a few angles and making a few centimeter adjustments. Team Scorpion hadn’t had such a relatively smooth time when dealing with underground assignments, since, well, the inception of the team. A part of Walter was relieved they didn’t have to scramble to dig someone out of a hole or collapsing tunnel, but another part of him disliked being free to let his mind turn to today’s other event, which was not helped by Cabe asking if Tim’s first day was a temporary good luck charm.

Walter was quite sure he couldn’t put the entirety of the blame for the cons list at Tim’s feet. The point of a one-night stand was that they didn’t exchange detailed information about who they were and how they were employed, and there was no guarantee of what Tim may have known about his assignment to work with Scorpion on Friday night (or how much he could’ve revealed to a random civilian at a bar). Both of their names were more on the common end of the naming spectrum, and they had already gotten the discussion of how they both had slight communication breakdowns out of the way. Unless Walter were to try to exclusively seek out aromantic spectrum individuals, there wasn’t much he could do mitigate alloromantic coupling. It was simply the nature of being a minority romantic orientation, and if he shared the aromanticism primer he’d created after ending his play partnership with Adam (and edited while sober) in the email, Walter could easily weed out any issues with that before the weekend.

Walter wasn’t entirely sure if it was a pro or a con that the bratty inner voice just wanted another scene with Tim. The sentiment was honest but not quite helpful with trying to decide if he should still send the email with limits because it didn’t fit in with the easy to explain logic he was attempting to assemble on the whiteboard. His brain had been far more settled than his usual weekend break featured recently, and it was probably the combination of post-coital and post-scene hormones and neurochemicals. Intense pleasure, the quiet inner satisfaction of slipping in subspace even for a few moments, crying, the animalistic comfort of sharing a bed and literally sleeping with someone. Walter could certainly scratch this assortment of itches with other play partners, but after letting his mind wander during their lunch break to the idea of Tim being out in the field with the team, he couldn’t deny that a part of him relished in a Daddy candidate being a literal protector. Team Scorpion’s assignments were often high stakes with the real possibility of someone getting hurt, and a stubborn part of him was not going to turn into a metaphorical doormat and relinquish his leadership of his team. However, Walter set the marker down and walked into the kitchen in the direction of the microwave, and he tried to ignore the nervous anticipation that it would be a challenging - no, realistic - give and take. He would need to be in charge, but he would also need to listen to Tim and Cabe when their expertise was necessary. He stirred the lasagna, relieved that this particular conflict was resolved and already drafting the email in his mind.

To: Tim A [daddy_d1980@gmail.com]  
From: Walt [aro_dinosaur@gmail.com]  
Subject: Play Partnership  
Attachment: Limits_List.pdf, Aromanticism_101.ppt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't changed the settings on this fic yet, but I do have plans for a sequel (a part two in a series), at the very least.


End file.
